


all the beautiful times

by denouementt



Series: albus & scorpius; fifth year [9]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Easter, Fluff, Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-08 03:34:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14096313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/denouementt/pseuds/denouementt
Summary: “Good friends?” Scorpius asked. “I’d like to think we’re more than good friends, love.”“We’re great friends, Scorpius,” Albus pressed on, his lips finding their way to the curve of Scorpius’ jaw. “Great friends who stay up all night talking to each other, kissing each other, spending every living moment with each other. I’m sure that’s what good friends do with each other.”or the one where scorpius spends easter at the burrow.





	all the beautiful times

**Author's Note:**

> finally updating this with some of these dorks. it's easter soon, take this as an easter gift from myself to you. 
> 
> tumblr: scorpiusmlafoy

Whenever Scorpius had visited The Burrow he always noticed how every single nook and cranny simply _radiated_ with joy. The creaks that erupted from the staircases as one ascended up the many floors of the home had a positively happy ring to them, the gnomes that inhabited the untamed garden all had smiles on their mischievous faces and even the chipped cutlery seemed to glitter with cleanliness. It felt awfully homely; the way that the chairs curved down from the weight of many people past and present perching on its unsteady legs felt like a comforting support from any problems that Scorpius may have been feeling. Even now, submerged in a hammock strung up between two fine oak trees with a book on his lap, listening to the younger Potters and Weasley’s galloping through the grass, Scorpius felt like he was at home.

He was spending the Easter holiday with Albus and his family as, for the first time, his dad was vacationing with his Grandma and Grandpa Greengrass in the ruins of Rome. Scorpius felt a miniscule wash of spite fill his stomach as his dad expressed his wishes for Scorpius to remain at home, but that feeling was soon gone after Albus extended his invitation to spend the holiday at the Burrow. Scorpius deeply enjoyed any time spent with the Potter family, much more so if the Weasley’s were involved in any way. He recalled the first time he’d met the elder Weasley’s, Molly and Arthur in particular; it was Christmas a year ago and, underneath the gentle glow of string lights hanging between archways and lampshades, he and Albus were gift-giving. Molly had ushered in a tray of freshly baked mince pie, dotting a kiss to the scruffy head of Albus, then to Scorpius, before scuttling out to prepare some hot chocolate. Arthur dozed in the corner on an emerald coloured armchair, uttering words of nonsense between gruff snores that slipped through his open lips. They’d immediately greeted Scorpius as though he were a family member: he’d loved them ever since.

The scenario could not be more different now, with an early spring sunshine raining down on the parched garden of the Weasley’s. No snow or sleeping elders were in sight as Arthur chased Lily Luna with a Hiccupping Hippogriff, a new _Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes_ product in the shape of a Hippogriff that shot streams of bubbles and a tickling serum from its beak. Arthur had likened it to a Muggle ‘water gun’ and Scorpius had no doubt in his mind that those devices hidden in Arthur’s room of Muggle objects was George’s sole inspiration for the product. James was in the corner of the garden chasing Rose around on a broomstick, hovering only slightly above the yellow blades of grass as to not scare the watchful eyes of his mother from under an umbrella casting a shade over her sun-kissed face. Ron and Harry seemed to be having a humorous discussion with Molly by the pitchers of lemonade Molly had concocted, their faces painted with wrinkles of laughter and hands clasped to their stomachs as giggles bubbled into the air.

Scorpius turned his glance to look forwards. Underneath his crossed legs sat Albus, slightly sunburnt with bags of exhaustion under his eyes. They’d had countless late nights so far and Albus had always struggled to hide the signs of their conversations come dawn. His skin always stayed a cool, pale tone though his cheeks flushed up with life after Molly’s generous breakfast had swam into his stomach. The corner of Albus’ lips had lifted into a shy smile as he watched his family dance in the Easter glow, eyes flicking between each different group around the expanse of the back garden. It was almost noon, Molly about to rush to the kitchen to present trays of sandwiches and sweet treats, and the sun breaking through the leaves covering their hammock washed Albus’ face with an almost angelic, golden highlight. His knotted fingers brushing over his own knuckles and the way the hem of his trousers gently fluttered in the wind painted him the picture of peace and tranquillity.

“What are you thinking about?” Scorpius asked, smoothing his bookmark back to place before dropping the book to the ground. He sat up slightly, curving his back so he could move closer to Albus.

“Nothing of importance. Just happy.” Albus answered, his body shifting to the side. Their eyes locked; Albus’ smile widened, lips separating in the centre to showcase a slit of his teeth. His hands had disentangled, instead finding the cool temperature of Scorpius’ own ones. Their fingers slotted effortlessly together, warm-toned skin colliding with the cool-toned in a stark yet sweet way.

“Happy?” Scorpius asked. “So am I. I’m glad you’re happy.”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad you invited me.”

There was a pause, a beat of humour silently passing between the two. “You’re not going to out glad me, Scorpius.”

Scorpius’ shoulders lifted to a small shrug, his thumb finding the curve of Albus’ skin where his wrist joined to his hand. He brushed over a small ‘S’ inscribed there, heart flipping a little as he took himself back to the night where they exchanged initials. They’d found some permanent ink in Zonko’s joke shop in Hogsmeade one afternoon and had spent the evening in the dormitory debating over what they should do. Whatever they drew would live on their skin, or paper, for the foreseeable future and they didn’t want to regret it the next day. ( _“It’ll be like a Muggle tattoo,” Albus had explained. “My great uncle Sirius had them. My dad’s mentioned them. They’re like… forever.)_

It ended up being Albus’ idea to write their initials in a small, slightly secluded space. They etched out the letters on parchment first, transferring the designs onto skin between held breaths and nervous exhales afterwards. Scorpius didn’t regret them though; the little A on his wrist could be Albus or Astoria depending on the day of week, much like the etchings on his wand.

“Can’t believe your dad hasn’t noticed these yet,” Scorpius murmured, nodding in the direction of the letters. “Even Professor Longbottom saw them the day after we did them.”

“He’s not observant, haven’t you noticed?” Albus chuckled, lifting up their joined hands to leave a ghost of a kiss on the A. “He’s great, and I love him. But he has the memory of a goldfish. I’d use a magical animal for comparison but I’m positive that Care for Magical Creatures is my worst class.”

“I don’t know,” Scorpius teased. “That time you Transfigured a kettle into a half-teacup, half-skunk was a pretty positive example of your worst class.”

“You’re forgetting the time you tried to levitate a feather but held your wand the wrong way and levitated _yourself_.” Albus countered.

“Fine, you win.” Scorpius sighed, allowing the conversation to fizzle out into the warm air and for them to rest in a soothing silence.

Their silence was short lived, though, as moments afterwards Molly beckoned everyone to a perfectly laid picnic table just outside the backdoor to the Burrow. She, Ron and Hermione had set out tablecloths, cutlery and plates of piled high food along the expanse of the slightly rotted table. It looked like something you could find in a Muggle park, Scorpius thought, where families would go for a day out and snack on finger food and sip happily from bottles of water between hikes through the thickets of tall trees. Only the gingham tablecloths and self-stirring pitchers of drinks set the scene apart.

Scorpius took a hesitant seat next to Albus, James perching to his left. He was greeted with a reassuring wink and gentle flick to the nose, James deliberately filling Scorpius’ cup with a little too much lemonade. Opposite him sat Ginny beside Arthur and Harry, the others filling spaces scattered around the table. Molly cleared her throat from her rightful place at the head of the table, hand holding her wand gently flicking to the direction of a basket just outside the door. From the seemingly small container flew Easter eggs of all different sizes, wrapped wonderfully in pastel-coloured tissue paper with their names painted across in glittering fonts. The eggs glided through the air to their rightful owner, hovering momentarily over their plates before falling with a gentle _dink_ as they collided with the chipped tableware below.

“Homemade, as always. One plain flavoured one and another with a twist to what I think is your favourite flavour. I do apologise if I’ve made a mistake with any of them. I just want to thank you all for being a wonderful family and for filling my life with joy, happiness and love. Whether bonded by blood or by friendship,” Molly cast a sweet glance in Scorpius’ direction, “I am grateful for you all being here. Please, tuck in.”

And with that she took her seat, the last egg falling on her plate. Scorpius’ heart swelled as he looked at the two eggs on his plate; he hesitantly raised them both to see if he could detect the mystery flavour Molly had infused in one of his, happiness flooding his senses as he smelt a hint of tangerine. All through the winter months Scorpius requested tangerine-flavoured syrup in his hot chocolate. Knowing Molly had listened all along strengthened the already dominant love he held for Albus’ grandmother.

“Scorpius, where did you say your dad had gone this holiday?” It was Ginny’s maternal voice that brought Scorpius back to the present, her warm eyes welcoming him to the bustling conversation that was already simmering across the table.

“To Rome, actually,” Scorpius answered, helping himself to some of the cucumber sandwiches in the centre of the table. “He’s gone with my Grandma and Grandpa Greengrass. First trip he’s taken with them since my mother… I think my Aunt Daphne has gone, too.” Scorpius struggled to utter the word _died_. It seemed cruel in that moment of true family bonding to bring up his trivial tragedy. He liked to think he had come to terms with his mother’s death over the last few months; there were still certain phrases and thoughts he couldn’t articulate without feeling as though he was tearing his own heart to shreds, though.

“Rome? Sounds wonderful! A little fancier than a family get together at this old place, though.” Ginny laughed.

“No!” Scorpius intersected, swallowing a mouthful of lemonade so quickly that a little of it splashed onto his lap. He heard James snicker beside him, glad his trap of too-much-lemonade had worked. “I’d much rather be here than there. I’m not one for fancy trips away with family I hardly see anymore.”

“Do you mind me asking why he’s gone with them _now_?” Harry now interjected into conversation. Scorpius noticed Ginny pass a look of disappointment, coloured mainly with disbelief, in Harry’s general direction.

“I think… I think the move to London inspired him to fix things. They always thought that my dad had softened mum, with the whole Pureblood thing. They didn’t realise it was her that made that choice and _then she_ softened my dad. He wants to make the family join back up. I think me always talking about how big and close your family is, Harry, made him realise what we’re missing. No Christmas dinners or anything like that. He wants to join us back up at the seams.” Scorpius explained, a small smile covering his face as a minute sign to Ginny that he didn’t mind the perhaps abrupt question. To his right he felt a hand tapping his knee; Albus’ face beamed with a subtle pride, fingertips leaving a physical mark of his joy onto Scorpius’ skin. Albus always blossomed with pride upon hearing Scorpius talk about his family, his mother in particular, without stuttering or becoming overcome with emotion. It made him happy seeing Scorpius grow.

“That’s sweet, actually. Sweeter than I thought Draco could go.”

“He’s like sugar underneath, honestly. He’s such a softie.” Scorpius chuckled.

“I’m excited to tease him about this when we get back to work.”

Scorpius grinned. “Just don’t tell him you heard it from me.”

The grip on his knee seemed to tighten, almost like the back and forth banter with his dad made Albus even happier. Watching his boyfriend blend perfectly in with the family dynamic after everything that had happened in the past was a signifier of how far they’d come: in terms of their relationship and of their family relationships.

“Albus, love, you look utterly exhausted.” Molly now sweetly sang across the table, an expression of concern tainting her usually joyful face.

Scorpius heard James chuckle again, a sinister smile curving across his tanned face. “I wonder why.”

Molly’s eyebrows furrowed, the youthful language gliding right over her greying head. “What’s that supposed to mean, James?”

“They say they’re up all night reading books together, but I’ll be willing to bet galleons that it’s not the _only_ thing they do togeth-”

“ _James!”_ Both Scorpius and Albus hissed together, cheeks flushed a harmonious colour of magenta. The younger adults burst into a chorus of laughter, leaving the students choking on embarrassment while Arthur and Molly sat in a shadow of confusion.

Among the hustle and bustle of family jokes, though, Scorpius managed to catch Albus’ eyes. He sent a gentle, soothing smile his way, accompanied by a loving swipe of his thumb over the S decorating Albus’ skin. “Love you.” Scorpius’ voice was quiet and soft, a juxtaposition to the booming laughter characterising the rest of the table.

“I love you, too.”

Albus’ comment lacked the quiet volume, however; beside them James faux gagged onto his plate, spluttering some lemonade onto his jeans underneath the table. Scorpius liked to think it was payback for the earlier prank, but the glint of happiness in the corner of James’ eye told Scorpius he didn’t actually mind their gentle expressions of love.

⚡

Dusk had soon taken over the garden, casting inky blue shadows over the hammock, table and the blades of grass still slowly dancing to an evening breeze. Plates had been cleaned, teeth brushed and every Weasley, Potter, Granger and Malfoy were now shut in their respective rooms. Albus and Scorpius had hurried up to where they were sleeping, sharing Uncle Ron’s old room many floors up the Burrow. Albus had thrown open the window to the back garden, letting the gentle sounds of hooting owls and rustling leaves drift into an otherwise silent room.

They were sprawled on the floor of the bedroom, wands sitting upright in empty glasses to cast a lamp-like light around the room. Blankets were pulled over their shoulders like cloaks and their Easter eggs from the picnic table were broken into smaller pieces, gradually being devoured by them as they spoke.

“What flavour’s your egg?” Scorpius asked, looking up to take in Albus’ orange-toned expression. His pyjamas were creased, green coloured shirt bearing a few holes in the sleeves and bottoms fraying at the seams. There were stains of melted chocolate bubbling over the material, too, remnants of their already relaxing evening.

“Strawberry and mint. I always say how much I love her candy canes she makes at Christmas, I’m assuming she took inspiration from that.” Albus smiled, tossing a slab in Scorpius’ direction so he could try the flavour himself.

“Mine’s similar. I always have tangerine flavoured hot chocolate when I’m here, especially at Christmas. She took that as my flavour.” Scorpius explained, mirroring Albus’ action by placing a piece of his own egg on Albus’ mint-coloured tissue paper.

“She’s a good Grandmother, isn’t she?”

“She’s absolutely wonderful. I adore your family.” Scorpius commented, reaching a hand over the small distance between them to rest his fingertips on Albus’ arm. He gently brushed off small dots of chocolate that had fallen from his lips, revelling in how the path his fingertip took drew a line of goose bumps along Albus’ skin.

“They like you a lot.”

“I’m glad.”

“I thought they’d be really weird after the whole… like… telling them about _us_ thing. I thought they’d ban you coming over to stay and definitely ban us sharing a room. I’m glad they didn’t.” Albus said, voice soft like the light being cast on his face by the gentle glow of their wands.

“We got lucky, didn’t we? Not many people get this sort of acceptance. I did think they’d start being weird with me, especially, coming over like this. But I feel more loved, if anything. I was even more surprised my dad suggested me staying with you if I didn’t feel like living in the house by myself.”

Albus nodded in a soft agreement, shuffling across to sit next to Scorpius, if not basically on top of him. One of his legs looped around Scorpius’ slim waist, always needing to have some sort of physical contact with him. His fingertips gently danced up and down the exposed skin of Scorpius’ arm, settling at last over his knuckles. “I don’t think they thought they’d see the day where the Potters and Malfoys were good friends.”

“Good friends?” Scorpius asked. “I’d like to think we’re more than good friends, love.”

“We’re _great_ friends, Scorpius,” Albus pressed on, his lips finding their way to the curve of Scorpius’ jaw. “Great friends who stay up all night talking to each other, kissing each other, spending every living moment with each other. I’m sure that’s what good friends do with each other.”

“It’s what James and _his_ good friend do.” Scorpius chuckled, fingertips finding their way to the hem of Albus’ shirt, skimming the material between his calloused skin.

“Wait, _what?_ James has a girlfriend?”

“Has he not told you?” Scorpius asked.

Albus’ expression turned exasperated, eyebrows shooting upwards to beyond his hairline, almost. “No! He hasn’t told me. He told _you?_ ”

“Well- not exactly,” Scorpius started, his nose gently nudging against Albus’ blushing cheek. “I was in the library, end of last term, reading up on some side effects of a failed Living Death potion. And as I was looking through the shelves I saw them in the corner, him and this girl. She looked flustered, and I’m _sure_ his hand was somewhere it shouldn’t have been. I caught him in the Great Hall for dinner and asked him if he knew anything about the Hufflepuff Taylor Macmillon. His face was a _picture._ ”

“A _Hufflepuff!_ ” Albus declared, rather than questioned. “I’m going to have so much fun with him from now on. No wonder he’s been writing owls all holiday. I can’t believe he’s dating a Hufflepuff. Talk about inter-house co-operation.”

“Lily is the only single Potter, for now. Your dad would probably have a heart attack if she found someone. Not that he knows about James, anyway. He still thinks you’re the lover of his children.” Said Scorpius, a level of adoration slipping into his comment as he planted a firm kiss to Albus’ cheek.

“That’s because I _am_ the lover of the family. I always have been,” Albus smiled. “Because I adore Scorpius Malfoy with everything I have, and none of my siblings will ever top that. Not James and his Hufflepuff or Lily and whoever she finds eventually.”

“You’re so wonderful when it’s the dead of night and you’re feeling sentimental. You’re always quiet in front of your family, my heart almost sings when the switch flips and you start gushing.” A smile formed on Scorpius’ lips as he allowed Albus to further his sentimentality with a kiss to Scorpius’ lips.

“I’m not a fan of public things. I like us to stay between _us_ , you know? These things are only important to us. I don’t want my family to see it that often. It feels like we’re one thing to them and another to each other. Does that make sense?” Albus asked, dotting a few more chaste kisses to Scorpius’ smiling lips between his sentences.

“Perfect sense, love.” Scorpius found himself lying back onto the floor, the blanket once covering his back providing a layer of insulation between him and the cold, wooden panels.

Albus followed suit, fingers sifting their way through Scorpius’ fringe. “I love you.”

“I love _you_.” Scorpius reaffirmed, accidentally knocking over the glass of their wands and he leaned forward to bump their noses together. Their wands rolled away, one lighting the space under Albus’ bed and the other finding its way underneath the dresser. Scorpius didn’t care, though. All he wanted to do was stay exactly where he was for as long as possible, drinking up the intertwining smell of tangerine, strawberry and mint for the rest of his life.

⚡

When Ginny gently pushed the door to Ron’s old room open early the next morning she was greeted with a bundle of limbs, flickering wands and bunched up blankets scattered all over the floor. She didn’t have the heart to wake either of them up, only glancing lovingly down at her son and Scorpius as they snoozed, chests rising and falling in sync as, she thought, they dreamed of endless adventures they’d have together.

They reminded Ginny of a younger version of herself and Harry, so smitten with the other that they’d unknowingly fall asleep in the middle of a conversation about endless irrelevant topics, just so they could keep hearing each other’s voices. Molly had told her many times how she’d walk into the Burrow living room to the two of them coiled together on the sofa, fingers loosely joined and blankets discarded onto the floor.

Ginny merely picked up the wands on the floor, murmuring a soft _nox_ before placing them on the bedside table. She slotted a pillow underneath their heads, tossed a blanket over their bodies and silently closed the window to shut out a crisp, early morning chill. A last loving look was all she cast at the two of them, Albus’ head resting on Scorpius’ upper chest with the rest of their limbs intricately twisted together, before she shut the door to leave them to their slumber.


End file.
